


Just The Ghost Of Nothing, Nothing?

by tjstar



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, Van Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-10 00:17:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4369883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjstar/pseuds/tjstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete tries to find someone similar weird as he is. Patrick is a synonym for the phrase ‘fuck the system’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just The Ghost Of Nothing, Nothing?

He likes freaks, he can say. Really, it’s Pete’s hobby — talking to strange people; maybe, he just tries to find someone similar weird as he is. Actually, he’s doing it great; his best friend Joe is interested in some unhealthy things like weed and alcohol despite his age, he has a lisp and a lip ring. Andy is a crazy scientist with a pierced tongue, who wants to cover himself with tattoos entirely. Besides, three of them have some really sad love-stories with cheatings, tears and broken hearts. It unites them. Patrick… This name is a synonym for the phrase ‘fuck the system’, and it’s the best way to describe him; he’s a dark horse, but he is a genius who is genuinely surprised by his own talent (like ‘sorry, I can sing’).

Patrick is a shy kid, he’s innocent, but he’s not naïve, and his thoughts are as unique as his music. He’s heart isn’t broken; all what Pete knows about Patrick’s private life is: he’s still single. It’s just a matter of time; soon, he’ll get a girlfriend, probably — some whore, who will cheat on him with every guy on her path. Maybe, Patrick’s music will be more sad and sensitive after that, and he’ll join a ‘Club of Former Lovers’. It will make him more interesting, more freaky, and more _‘Wentz’s style.’_ More depressive.

Pete’s dark side wants to look at these inevitable metamorphoses, how it will be. But now, Patrick is just a horny teenager who likes to take a bath a little bit longer than necessary, and he doesn’t miss the right moment to shove his hand down his pants at the backseat of the van, when he thinks no one can see /hear/ him. By all these signs, he’s ready to fall in love and have real sex, but Pete actually doesn’t want it. It’s the worst kind of jealousy.

 

***

Patrick likes being invisible. He’s a champion of awkward conversations with anyone, especially with the opposite sex. He always stutters, he speaks too softly or too loud, he blushes or he laughs hysterically when he hears some vulgar jokes. Patrick can’t say he knows the balance between the ‘green’ and ‘red’, and generally his behavior reminds the mix of these imaginary colors — ‘brown’ aka ‘shitty’. It always beats up Patrick’s brain; he’s glad that Pete takes the most part of the blows (interviews and dubious questions, but hey — he has a sexy body and such a cute face).

Patrick can sing, Pete can scream, and that’s all.

Lead singer can’t stop his stream of mind, sitting on an uncomfortable bar stool and waiting for Pete. Probably, bassist is making out with that girl in the restroom right now; Pete just said ‘go and find someone’ and vanished. Patrick doesn’t want _someone_ , he thinks he’ll be kicked out of the bar for being too young. After the shows, people quickly forget his name, and he’s pretty sure that the security guard stares at him suspiciously. Patrick sighs and slides off the chair, deciding to go out voluntarily, or he’ll end up with broken nose, lying somewhere on the dark street. _‘Where are you, fucking Wentz?’_

Joe and Andy are already in the van together, and Patrick can’t go to them without warning; seriously, he shouldn’t embarrass his bandmates.

“You are from that band, right?” a male voice asks, and Patrick shivers, feeling his warm breathing on his neck.

“Yes,” he replies, scanning with his gaze the man, who’s standing next to him. He’s twice older and bigger than Patrick, he’s drunk a little, and he holds a glass with some liquid in his hand.

“You look sad, drink it,” he _orders_ , handing him a glass.

“No, I’m… I can’t drink,” Patrick refuses politely, but he notices anger in stranger’s eyes.

Patrick turns away and maneuvers between sweaty bodies, heading to the exit. He’s not twenty-one, and he doesn’t want to get into the troubles. Patrick makes a few steps away, but a wet palm presses to his mouth, hard enough to make him bite his tongue _. ‘No one will help me, I’m just quiet and fat Patrick, and they don’t give a fuck.’_ He struggles, but strong hand squeezes his neck, and Patrick’s vision instantly becomes blurry.

“How much for the night?” the dude whispers. Hearing the question, Patrick shakes his head as the unknown person drags him straight to the back door. _‘It’s not a club, it’s the street and I can run away.’_

No, he can’t. The man shoves him out of the club, pushes him in the back, and Patrick falls down the stairs on the gravel. He hits his knee and feels bloody wetness on his ripped jeans. It hurts, but Patrick gets up, knowing he will limp, and he can’t run fast, but he has to fight back no matter what it cost.

Another blow — Patrick’s cheek burns with the pain, and he falls on the ground again, feeling the man’s fingers, trembling with impatience on the zipper of his jeans.

“Be a good boy, and you’ll like it,” his torturer says in a sickly-sweet tone.

“I’ll crash your f-fucking balls,” Patrick hisses and kicks his enemy, aiming to the crotch, but he just hits his hip. “HELP!!” Patrick shouts and gets a hard punch in his solar plexus.

“You can beg me let you go,” the ‘kidnapper’ offers and tears the zipper of Patrick’s jeans, ripping the blue denim.

“Go fuck yourself,” Patrick responds weakly, seeing a white and red flashes dancing in front of his eyes. He lost his glasses somewhere on the gravel, and he’s almost sure he smashed the back of his head. And he’s scared.

When Patrick feels a hand, grabbing him through the elastic fabric of his boxers, he just hopes that this rapist will kill him right after the crime. The older guy slowly tugs his own belt, and Patrick uses a chance to roll onto his side, but the man kicks him, making Patrick to lie on his stomach. He raises his head to look back, but the opponent sits on Patrick’s thighs, pressing him to the cold ground. Patrick reaches his hand to pick a stone and crash the pedophile’s head, but…

“GET THE HELL OUT OF HIM!”

Yes, Pete Wentz can scream. Also he can run, and he can kill anyone who tries to dishonor Patrick. Younger boy sighs with relief when the bassist snatches the man by the collar and hauls him away, promptly letting Patrick to stand up.

Pete knocks the man off his feet and strikes a blow in his face.

“Need a help?” someone else’s voice distracts Pete, and he takes a punch in his jaw, but club’s security guard already hurries to him.

Patrick squeezes the unbuttoned waistband of his jeans to tug them up.

“We are… We are leaving,” he stammers, looking at Pete.

“Yes, we are,” Pete nods, rubbing his jaw. “This moron started a fight with my friend,” he explains, glaring at the defeated dude.

“I’m sorry!” he yells from the ground, not guessing to blame Pete or Patrick.

The security stares at them with zero expression on his face, but it looks like he understands everything in this incident at the club’s backyard.

“You two from that band,” security concludes. “Go away, I want to talk to this idiot,” he points at the man who sits on the gravel and doesn’t dare to look at the musicians.

No needs to tell twice, honestly. No wishes to draw a full picture of this unpleasant moment.

The night is cold, and they both want to go to warm place or in their van, but Patrick tries not to think about what Joe and Andy are doing in the van together. Just friends, really.

“How are you feeling?” Pete asks worriedly.

“I’m hungry,” Patrick shrugs; he hadn’t eaten all day.

Pete’s thoughts explode inside his brain. No fear, no tears, no ‘Pete don’t leave me’, nothing. This weirdo just wants to eat after the rape attempt. Cool.

They go down the street, and Patrick suddenly stops under the street lamp, turning away from Pete.

“Shit, I need new jeans,” he mumbles.

“What, ‘accident’?” Pete chuckles.

“Shut up. That dickhead broke the zipper, and I can’t zip my jeans up,” Patrick huffs.

He thinks he can be proud of himself. Short chubby guy _from that band_ who can’t see without glasses, and who always hides under trucker hats and oversized clothes. If you look like this, you have to be able to fight back the morons who /surely/ will be trying to hurt you and show their dominance. At least, he managed to keep his underwear on, and it’s a big deal.

But Patrick admits that Pete literally saved his ass.

“You’re a strong motherfucker,” Pete pats Patrick’s shoulder and looks down at his bloodied knee, thinking about first aid kit in the van.

“Thanks, really,” Patrick replies, adjusting his hat. “Without you I’m… Just miserable?”

Pete gently places his palm on Patrick’s freshly bruised cheek. He’s disheveled, without glasses, and it makes him even more diffident, young, and… beautiful? _‘I’m miserable without you,’_ Pete repeats mentally, tasting these words. Such a bitter taste.

“Well… what do you think about… _tonight?_ ” Pete chuckles again when Patrick tugs up his jeans even though it’s not funny.

“Show was fine, that dude was ugly,” Patrick tries to smile, realizing he can’t remember that asshole’s face to identify him.

Patrick’s embarrassed, but Pete keeps staring at him; his jaw aches, and when they’ll go back to van it will look like they had a fight with each other.

Pete wants to shoot that bastard from the club.

Patrick licks his dry lips, and Pete wonders who will be kissing these pretty, pink lips, who will be Patrick’s _first_. Pete already hates her, and he drowns in Patrick’s green-blue eyes and in his own jealous thoughts. And when Patrick awkwardly kisses him, Pete just smirks and kisses back, closing his eyes. It’s strange, and it’s his favorite style. Finally.  

Pete Wentz likes freaks, and Patrick Stump is the freakiest kid in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> i can explain the idea: Pete’s a depressive and weird guy and he thinks Patrick’s more normal and so they can’t be together. then he realizes it doesn’t matter. actually i don’t like OC in fics but it’s just an experiment ^^  
> \----  
> feel free to tell me about my grammar errors


End file.
